


I'm fine, I'm fine

by Kuriake



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Animal Transformation, Awkwardness, Canon Related, Gen, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuriake/pseuds/Kuriake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miraculously, the Dark Eco has left him alive. There's still one thing to do to make sure it stays that way: getting off Misty Island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm fine, I'm fine

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. and Sony Computer Entertainment. No Precursor Orbs are being made off this story.

“Ah… y’think anyone heard that?”

Letting go of the lapels of Jak’s tunic, Daxter drops down, while above him Jak’s eyes survey the area with quick glances. It’s still quiet, with only the bubbling of the dark stuff in the silo behind them, but that could change at any moment.

Daxter himself, meanwhile, is making sure his own eyes go anywhere except himself. Another such outburst probably wouldn’t do them much good right now. Because the blue, club-swinging lurker that followed them seems to have bitten the dust upon impact with that glowing Precursor crap, they passed _plenty_ others of them on their way here.

And of course, there is always the possibility that he’ll suffer a nervous breakdown from seeing more orange fur and three-toed paws, meaning the end of him before those lurkers even manage to get here.

Jak stands up from his crouch and _whoa_ had he always been this tall? Yeah, Daxter’s definitely getting a different perspective on things here, one he could have really done without.

The worried frown is not leaving Jak’s features and with a quick wave of his hand motions that they should leave. Misty Island can only be so big; if there are more lurkers coming, it won’t be long before they’re here. And even while Jak might have been able to take one out, it was only _one_ , combined with a lot of luck. Although ‘luck’ might not be the right word for it at the moment, if Daxter is one to talk.

Walking at a brisk pace, Jak is down the wooden ramp before Daxter has even made it to the edge of the metal platform. There’s a nagging feeling that tells him he’d be quicker if he’d drop down to all fours, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to be scurrying around this place like some kind of animal.

Jak’s footsteps reverberate around the circular room; the rhythmic beating on the metal is moving away fast when Daxter calls out.

“Jak! Wait up, buddy.”

Thankfully, Jak stops and turns to see Daxter waddling down the wooden ramp behind him. Higher, much, much higher than he remembers it when they went up. It helps he’s still decidedly _not_ looking down, although the sensation of that _tail_ dragging behind him is enough to make him bite his tongue.

“Thanks,” he says when he makes it to Jak’s leg, and resists the urge to gasp for breath with his hands on his knees. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kinda lackin’ in the legs department at the moment.”

Jak gives him one of those meaningful smiles, somewhere between amusement and understanding – and maybe a bit of worry mixed in as well? It’s hard to tell from this angle.

“And _other_ departments. I’m thinkin’ we should go see ol’ green stuff when we get back to Sandover. He’ll know what to do.”

Now Jak’s smile is getting a few more shades of encouragement mixed in. He nods, and like that is off again, heading for the circular door that leads to the boat home.

Daxter scurries after him, still getting used to the feeling of bare paws on cold metal and a new balance to work with.

“Jaaaak, wait!” he yells again. He slaps Jak’s calf in frustration when he meets up with him. “Yer going way too fast.”

Thankfully that makes Jak move slower, although not by much.

“I know we gotta get outta here before more of those uglies show up, but could ya do it _without_ leaving me behind ta be chopped liver?” And oh, that could actually easily happen now, couldn’t it?

He regards Jak’s leg next to him as they pass through the round door and is struck with an idea.

“Hey, maybe I could…” Daxter reaches out and takes hold of the leather straps around Jak’s right leg just when the weight is on it. Unfortunately his success doesn’t last long and he is jerked forward when Jak takes another step. His stomach scrapes along the metal of the stairs, getting him intimately acquainted with the architecture of the steps. He should tell Samos he figured out the reason behind the Precursors building this place: to inflict the greatest amount of injury on him. Before he is unceremoniously dragged through the dirt, Daxter manages pull himself up, plant both feet on Jak’s foot and wraps both arms around his calf.

“Ah… Whaddaya think?” he asks looking up, although he can’t really see beyond the hem of Jak’s blue tunic and thus can only guess at the response.

After two steps Daxter finds his new ride is not particularly comfortable; after five he decides ‘comfortable’ is not to be mentioned in the same sentence. It’s bumpy, the leather is chafing his stomach and pebbles keep hitting him in the back every time Jak’s foot hits the ground. Not to mention Jak himself has gained a noticeable limp in his gait. Even though he can’t see his face, Daxter is sure Jak is sporting a scowl on it.

Nevertheless, they’re moving, moving _away_ from that purple gunk and _off_ this island, and all that at a nice pace as well.

“Yeh,” he says, tapping the sturdy leather. “Yeh, this could work.”

The words have barely left his lips when he finds himself face down in the sand. Jak has made a sudden dash towards a boulder, one he is now pressing himself against.

“ _Jak_ ,” Daxter grinds, scraping himself off the ground. “Do you _want_ me to die? Was that your plan behind us coming here? Throwin’ me down that goo didn’t work so now you’re moving on to plain vio—”

A sharp shush cuts him off, and he looks up to see Jak gesturing to where they just came from. Now quiet, Daxter hears the distinct pounding of feet on metal coming from the building they left less than a minute ago. And not just one pair of them, either.

“Oh,” Daxter says. He flattens himself against the rock next to Jak and whispers, “Okay, yeah, I see.” He follows Jak edging along the boulder, away from the path they were just following. “Still woulda been nice if you could give me a heads-up next time,” he hisses. Jak moves forward without a semblance of a response. “Hey, are you listening?”

Frustrated, Daxter jumps up to get the taller one’s attention—and bounces surprisingly higher than he anticipated, higher than Jak’s waist. True, saying the jump is high might be an exaggeration, but had he still be in his true shape, he would have made it over Jak’s _head_.

Two more jumps and Daxter manages to grab hold of Jak’s backpack. His feet are scrambling for purchase but don’t find any, and the reward for his efforts is being smacked against Jak’s back while he keeps walking undeterred.

Straining to pull himself up by the arms alone, Daxter eventually manages to hook a foot in one of the many leather straps of Jak’s outfit. Standing up on the backpack however doesn’t yield much beyond a mop of green-and-yellow hair.

“Sheesh, when was the last time ya washed your hair?” he asks wading through it. “And then they keep telling me _I’m_ the one in need a bath…” When he finally manages to push Jak’s ‘do aside he sees they’ve made it to the waterside. Here at the bank the fog holds less of a choke hold over the island. In the distance Sandover lies peacefully, the villagers probably just now waking up as dawn announces its arrival.

It soon becomes apparent that his new spot isn’t ideal either: Daxter keeps getting Jak’s hair in his nose, and his feet keep slipping on the too-small backpack. The third time he clutches Jak’s ears to prevent himself from falling back into the dirt, Jak halts. He lets out a huff that makes Daxter apologize, “Heh heh… sorry, buddy.”

But Jak doesn’t look all that annoyed like Daxter expected him to. It’s more like he’s… thinking? When he tilts his head back to look at Daxter, he’s sporting an ever-so-slight grin.

“Whaat?”

Jak’s only response is to point at his left shoulder.

Matching Jak’s grin, Daxter takes a careful step from the backpack to the metal plate. A ringside seat with hopefully very little hands-on audience participation. He rests an arm across Jak’s head and gives a thumbs up with the other. “Oh yeh,” he says – and is promptly thrown off balance as Jak starts moving again. He falls forward, but instead of falling off entirely manages to grab hold of the metal plate, his fingers curling around the rounded edge. While his current position could be considered as on all fours, he has to admit there’s a natural ease to it. And that damned tail for once actually comes in handy by acting as a counterweight, helping him retain his balance.

This could work.

For a little while, at least. A day, maybe? Two days, tops. Three if the girls can’t keep their hands off his new, fluffly form. Come day four, Grampa Green had better changed him back.

The boat is coming up; Jak pushes it away from the dock and in one fluid motion jumps onto the deck. The boat’s propeller is turned on and with that, Misty Island falls away behind them.


End file.
